


Sin

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Porn, Blindfolds, Bondage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, unhealthy bdsm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saleh was like broken glass, yet Altair still touched him knowing he'd cut himself every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a friend as a gift with the permission to post this, so others can enjoy it as well. Nothing to see here, just porn.

Altair would die of shame for sure if someone was to discover him right now. He wasn’t certain if it was really physically possible but he just knew, if the man who’d find him now by accident wouldn’t kill him right away, Altair would force his own blade to his heart and end his life right here and then – or at least, when he was able to move again.

 

Sweat was trickling down his face in thick ropes, hanging heavily on his eyelashes before falling and rolling down his nose and over his dry chapped lips. His jaw hurt, _ached_ , and the torn piece of fabric forced between his lips and into his mouth was soaked by his own saliva already. It made him gag but then again, it could have been very well his own disgust that made his tongue roll to the back of his throat and force dry heaves all the way up from his stomach. He liked to pretend not to like this. He liked to pretend that he simply didn’t held a chance against a man like Saleh – that his hard training was the reason why he could not disobey an old man and member of the Order (although, Altair disobeyed most men if he didn’t think worthy of them, and when he knew Al Mualim did so just as well and wouldn’t punish him. Not hard anyway). His mind liked to pretend but the taut bulge in front of his half torn half open trousers told a different story. He could feel his own pulse beating a way to fast rhythm in his dick, an ache he couldn’t reach.

 

He curled his fingers hard behind his back, his head coming up fast when feet shuffled over the floor outside the door. His breathing almost came to a stop and his heart was beating so loud inside his head that he hardly heard anything else and he leaned forwards, head turned and ear towards the door, trying to make out more sounds. There were steps for sure, a set of two feet, slowly walking by the door. Altair braced himself.

 

It wasn’t as if he could do much if the door was opened – not with the rope tied so tight around his chest that there’d probably be marks on his skin tomorrow and not with his hands pulled behind his back and up to his shoulders twisting his elbows painfully and causing his writs to cramp every few minutes. He’d tried to fight it but the rope didn’t come loose – but his robes sure managed to ride up his chest and hips, leaving patches of skin free to the naked eye. There was nothing he could do. Not when he was gagged, not when he was kneeling to the dirty floor in a damn chamber that was dark and with no window with its only purpose to storage parchments of paper, ink and quills.

 

Whoever it was outside was switching directions. The steps came to a halt right in front of Altair, paused for a second before they went back the same way they’ve come from. It took a second or two before Altair finally allowed himself to let go of a breath he’d been holding for too long now. He moved his jaw around the gag before he changed his weight to his heels and sitting down on them while he felt every little stone, every little piece of dust on the floor and digging into his knees.

 

He didn’t like this. No. And he couldn’t even tell how he’d been so… _dumb_ to believe Saleh and follow him into the storage room in order to help him like the good novice he was. But maybe Saleh was just the right distraction he’d needed after his French lessons, no? Maybe Saleh waiting in front of the classroom, leaning against the wall with a crooked smile on his lips (and for smiles to happen for Saleh were a rare occasion, so Altair should have known right from the beginning that seeing one on Saleh’s lips wouldn’t come without a price) and arms crossed in front of his chest was enough of a welcoming sight for Altair to forget about all the doubts building at the back of his head and brushing them away with a swift motion of his hand has been way too easy. No matter how he’d gotten himself into his current situation, it didn’t change the fact just how between the groans of pain moans of pleasure has mixed into them when Saleh had grabbed his wrist and whirled him right into the wall, pushing the breath out of his lungs and made him see stars when he hit the back his head against hard stone. He’d fought against Saleh although by now Altair knew just how senseless that was, but he’d forced all of his strength and willpower up and against Saleh to push him away, to get his hands against the man’s chest and keep him from pulling against his robes and down his shoulders. In the end, he’d been hard when Saleh finally had him gagged and tied the last of the rope around his arms, one foot pushing down against Altair’s thigh, a smug grin painting his lips wide. Of course Saleh had noticed the bulge in his pants. Of course he’d lifted his foot and pressed his boot against it. Of course Altair had moaned...

 

He didn’t like this; Altair told himself again. This was too risky – every moment now a novice or scholar could come in, search for a new parchment of paper and instead, would find Al Mualim’s most finest tied, gagged and with a raging boner between his legs kneeling on the floor. It was too risky – and Altair would die of shame. He closed his eyes, sweat covering his brow. The mere thought of what would happen if somebody were to open the door set his heart beating to a whole new rhythm – and made his erection grow. The longer he thought about it, the more he could feel the thin coats of humiliation stick to his body and skin, making his cheeks burn with a fierce blush.

 

The whole situation had made him lose the ability to tell how much time might have passed. No matter how hard he tried, Altair could only guess for how long Saleh had left him alone by now. The last words he’d spoken to him still stung his ego, but yet he wasn’t able to shake off the effect they’ve had on him. “Good things happen to boys who wait – wouldn’t you agree Altair? And you’re always in need of a lesson in patience…” The words stung, yes – not because they were true but because they made him realize just once more oh so deliciously painfully who was in charge here. Saleh.

 

The door was pushed open and with it came light flooding the room and cutting into his sensitive eyes, causing Altair to squeeze them shut and turn his head away to avoid the pain.

 

Fuck. He’d been focused too much on thinking about Saleh and all the things he did to him, could do to him, that those thoughts had distracted him to a point where he’d stopped trusting his ears and instead let himself bask in a sea of dirty fantasies he’d be too shy to ever speak them out loud. Tears were gathering at the corner of his eyes, Altair blinked but could only make out the dark outlines of a figure standing above him. The man took a sharp inhale of air but otherwise did not move. Altair yielded, struck hard across his pride and turned his whole body away, trying to hide as he pulled his shoulders up. He could make out a change of position and the door fell shut and a step was taking forwards before he was grabbed by the arm and hurled painfully upwards. “Who the fuck thinks he can-“

 

But he was struck across the face with the back of a hand, silencing him immediately. “You better start using your manners or I won’t let you cum for weeks,” Saleh chuckled but there was no humor in his voice and his fingers curled with more force around his arm, pulling him even higher. “Come here…” Fingers were holding his chin, pressing against it and forcing his head back. Altair opened his mouth for a reply but Saleh silenced him once more by pressing into his cheeks. “There are about two classes to end soon and I am very certain, at least one of the novices is in dear need for new ink. You can fight me all you want boy, but keep in my mind I can leave you just here if I see fit to it and you can explain yourself in front of the Order and your Master what exactly you were doing here.” It made his struggles come to an end instantly. Altair wouldn’t dare to carry Saleh with him in his downfall, would he? Not when he possessed so much power over him – and especially not when Altair _let him have_ that power.

 

“There’s a small time window but we should manage to make it through it just fine,” Saleh continued and Altair felt something rough, something thick touching his face. A cowl. He jerked, his body moving head coming up and the hand pressed cold to his neck was barely able to keep him in place, but the floor was dirty and so were the sole of his shoes, the dust underneath them making him lose contact to the floor. Saleh kept him in place, pressed close. “Now now… what’s that? Scared?” Saleh’s face was close, his breath crawling slowly over Altair’s heated skin, sending chills down his spine. A leg came up between his own, Saleh’s knee was pushing against his crotch not too gently. “Scared and liking it, I see.” His chuckles were rough and sharp on the edge but Altair was never afraid of cutting himself.  There was that thick coat of humiliation slowly crawling up his body, wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him down, making him lean his brow against Saleh’s shoulder. It was a simple gesture, an intimate gesture that was probably lost on a man like Saleh who never considered anybody worthy but himself and Altair was nothing but a nice toy to play with while he was staying at Masyaf – he could easily end this, Altair was certain about it. But Saleh was like a drug, a too strong of a hookah some of the men shared down in the courtyard late in the evenings, and Altair could not go past this. He always needed just one last drag, one last high before he could turn his back on Saleh for good – but then he grew tired again and his needs got stronger, talking against the sanity in his mind, and he buried that sanity deep down where Altair couldn’t find it when he was kneeling to the man’s feet.

 

“Are you going to be a good boy now and follow me nice and quiet?” Saleh pulled away, and it was grotesque, really, how he pushed one crooked finger underneath Altair’s chin making him look up and he could make out the lines of his face barely in the darkness of the small chamber. “Do you think you’ve stayed in here long enough after disobeying me yesterday?”

 

Oh. So _that’s_ why he was here in the first place. He’d already forgotten about it, not paying much attention to the fact how Saleh had wanted him to polish his boots – but it was a long day yesterday and he’d ached all over after a hard training in the ring, and, to his defense, he’d told Saleh about it right this morning and the man had brushed it away with a small gesture and a stoic nod. He should have known better but then again, as Saleh said at times, Altair has had a hard time learning – especially if it meant a lesson by Saleh followed after.

 

He nodded, slowly and this time didn’t resist when the rough, smelly fabric touched his face once more and closed around his head. The smell reminded him of day old sweat and goat. It almost made him gagged, and Altair hunched his shoulders. “Who knew you could learn so fast?” Saleh’s voice was coming from somewhere above him, booming through his chest and bones. “Stay up straight,” the order followed and Altair couldn’t even have followed it even if he’d wanted to but Saleh was hooking his fingers underneath the rope going around his chest and pulled him up, roughly, and almost caused him to lose balance once more. He saw the dim light falling through the opened door in a small stream shining through the poorly crocheted cowl and a shadow lingering there, right in front of him with broad shoulders and wide back. Saleh didn’t say a word when he closed it again, instead turned towards Altair and he felt his hard hands moving over his shoulders down his chest and the light spark of excitement that followed the touch soon should have disgusted him but he caught himself leaning in, followed by a foreign moan reaching his own ears and a dry chuckle falling from Saleh’s lips. The cowl was closing, tight around his throat, the fabric scratching his skin and probably even leaving marks there – Saleh closed the rope around his neck, tied two or three knots. “I don’t want to lose you out there, do I?” Saleh hummed and pulled against the rope dangling in front of Altair’s chest, reminding him more of a leash. He shook his head, slowly. “That’s what I’ve thought.”

 

His palms were sweaty and legs shaking when he followed in steps too small to possibly keep up with Saleh’s big ones but being tied, gagged and blindfolded was enough to keep him busy from worrying about where he stepped than holding Saleh’s pace. Saleh didn’t mind – it didn’t surprise Altair. He just kept yanking against the make-shift leash, only pushing his hand against Altair’s chest when he wanted him to wait, a warm, unforgiving pressure pressing right against his wild beating heart.

 

He felt nauseas with the fear of getting caught, yet Altair swallowed it down and instead forced his trust into Saleh to grow. It was too weak though, too small and fragile to keep him from falling into a whirling vortex of ‘what ifs’. If they were caught—He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to end that thought. But Saleh was moving with confidence through the hall of the citadel – and that was probably even scarier. He walked through the halls as if he was owning Masyaf. As if it wasn’t Al Mualim but him ruling over the Order. Altair was fascinated by Saleh. About his power, his personality, the abilities he possessed. He was a fearsome man, a gruesome man most Assassins and novices wouldn’t want to meet nor to go on a mission with. Some said Saleh would be Altair’s downfall, rotting his already foul character to the worse. Some said Altair already took on some of Saleh’s behavior, nose up high and aloof to those who met him. In some way, he wished to be like Saleh and to some point he knew, Al Mualim wanted him to. He was meant to be a weapon, a blade too sharp too touch and too fast to catch. Altair was to become the best and Saleh knew.

 

His hair was soaked in sweat when Saleh yanked the rope once more and pushed him with his heel against the back of Altair’s legs into a room. The door fell close behind him when his knees touched the floor, dull pain shooting through his legs and up his spine. He groaned, chest leaning forwards and Saleh pulled, his neck stretching painfully and chin coming up. “Do you deserve this to be removed?” Saleh tugged against the cowl. Altair nodded and the slap to his cheek was the answer. “No.”

 

If anybody but Saleh were to do this to him, Altair would be furious and the man wouldn’t live to see the next morning but be found with a slit throat drowned in his own blood. But this was no other man, this was _Saleh_. And Altair wanted to please him, as odd as it might seem. He was craving for his approval more than he was for Al Mualim’s. He was starving for his touch more than for a drink of water after a three day ride through the desert. Saleh was exactly what Altair knew about life.

 

“Do you deserve this to be removed?” Saleh asked again. Altair shook his head. “I’ve thought so.” There was that finger again, slowly tracing his ear through the cowl and along his throat, over the gag and down his jaw until he could hook it underneath the rope going around his throat. “You’re hard.” Saleh said it as if he was actually surprised – as if it hadn’t been a fact for the last -what felt to Altair like- hours. But he said it as if he’d just noticed, as if he was curious about it. He cocked his head, a halfhearted nod as if defeated. But he was, wasn’t he? He’d lost the moment he let Saleh first have him. It was of no use to pretend it to be any different and the both of them knew that. “Because of this?” His fingers moved over Altair’s stretched lips, the saliva coating them staining the fabric of the cowl, leaving damp fingertips behind. He could almost imagine how Saleh stood there, watching him with that sly half-smirk on his lips, one that promised no good. “Or because you would have liked it if somebody was to actually see you like this? Dirty and drooling like a dog waiting for its Master to return and take care of him? A good little puppy that moans like a whore when fucked by another man?”

 

The words - _the humiliation_ \- stung more than his cheek did and his head moved lower, his eyes turned towards the floor as his shoulders went up. “Am I not right?” The finger went away from the rope and instead fingers took a fierce grip of his chin, nails digging even through the fabric and into his skin as his head was pushed back and up. Slowly, Altair nodded. “If that’s all you need to learn I wonder why you still manage to disappoint me on so many levels,” Saleh said, clearly pleased with the answer and annoyed by his earlier disobedience. His grip grew stronger. “I know you’re used to corporal punishments.” There was the rustle of fabric and boots shifting over the floor, as Saleh crouched down in front of him. “But I bet you’ve never begged for one have you?”

 

Altair frowned, confused and his silence gave Saleh the right answer. “Do you want me to make you beg for it?” He let go of his jaw and put his hand flat against Altair’s chest, further down to his stomach and twisted his fingers underneath the torn robes there, his palm moving almost gently against exposed patches of skin, traveling further south still. Helplessly as he was against Saleh, Altair groaned and leaned his head back, nodding widely. Saleh pressed his lips close to Altair’s ear, lips moving over hard fabric. “Good boy.”

 

He yelped, his cries of surprise muffled by the gag and his legs felt wobbly as Saleh hoisted him up, pulling the rope taut as he used it to pull Altair up with his feet losing contact to the floor for a brief second. His muscles ached and his bones made a sound when he pushed his legs from a bent to a standing position. Saleh put his hand on his neck and squeezed hard as Altair’s chest made contact with the fall pressing all the air out of his lungs. He stumbled when Saleh pushed his legs apart, his arm across Altair’s back to keep him in place. “I love hearing your cries when I fuck you,” he whispered to his ear, each word rough and spoken with deadly venom. “But tonight you’re faceless, voiceless – just a boy I’m going to fuck and take my pleasure from because that’s all you deserve.” Altair whimpered and Saleh moved closer still. “I don’t even care if you like it or not. I don’t even care if you don’t take your pleasure from it – because I sure won’t let you cum.” He snickered and it was even more terrifying. “But let me tell you one thing, I know boys like you Altair. I _know_ you. I’ve promised your father to watch over you, and watched I have you.” The words were closing around Altair, taking his breath away and make him hold it.  He couldn’t move. “I always knew who you were right from the beginning. How you’ve made mistakes on purpose – haven’t you? Just so you could feel the cane, mh?” Saleh crooked his fingers underneath the rope going around his throat and pulled back. He pulled some of the cowl away, just enough to expose one ear to the air to speak into it. “I know what a whore like you needs.”

Saleh laughed, a full and booming laugh this time and he let go of Altair only to hurl him around and push him into a desk face first. The strong smell of old wood and too many spilled ink pots reached his nose strong and thick. The world was closing in around him, the room to breathe was almost gone and his throat was dry and raw. Altair swallowed around the gag, pushing back rising bile. The moment was turning into eternity with Saleh’s body rising high and above behind him. It drove Altair into a new state of madness not knowing what would come next. Yet he was pushing back, his hips crawling up as he pushed his feet on the toes, legs straight. His hard-on was digging uncomfortable into the desk’s edge but he’d be damned if he didn’t want Saleh to touch him. He always wanted Saleh to touch him. He always wanted Saleh to come back and take what’s his…

 

His pants were pulled down by one swift motion of Saleh’s big hand and hung low around his ankles. One palm moved over the round globe of one ass cheek and all Altair could think of was a strong and long _Finally!_ In his mind. The simple but very welcomed and much needed touch was enough to let the humiliation shrink to a tiny firm ball at the back of his head – and all which was important was for Saleh to touch him _more_ to finally _take_ what’s his and Altair was close to begging, if only he could speak. Maybe the gag wasn’t so bad – and maybe Saleh had known right from the beginning. The gag was all that kept the last of Altair’s dignity intact. At least for the moment

 

Saleh groped him using both of his palms, squeezing and pinching his behind painfully and made him lean further into the table while trying to meet the pain at the same time. “You were always so eager for the cane Altair – did you think I wouldn’t know? I’ve promised your father to watch over you. I knew how smart, how skilled you are – yet you chose to fail so many times on so many levels. Just so you could be stripped of your pride and feeling the cane in front of a crowd of horny teenagers? I, personally, despise the cane”, he purred into his ear, setting his mind on fire and burning his last free will to the ground. “I like using my hands,” he continued and delivered what’s been promised to Altair right from the beginning, his hand connecting painfully with his skin, the sound of it echoing from the walls surrounding them. Altair grunted into his gag. “I like to feel the welts.” Saleh hit him again, left cheek this time. “I like to feel how hot it is.” Another one, to the right. Altair could relate – he liked the contact of skin as well and if it was only so he wouldn’t feel so isolated in his own mind prison.

Time crawled slow and fast at the same time for Altair – the pain was there in all vivid colors, bright and hot and merciless, making him forget his own name. Yet, he was craving for it, would go down on his knees any second and begging for _more more more_! Eventually, Saleh stopped and the only sound passing through the room were Altar’s own whimpers and groans. He didn’t have much time to recover, not with Saleh, not when the man has had already planned all of his next moves before he’d even started with Altair. He knew exactly what he was doing, was in complete control and at the edge of his focus at all times – which was probably the reason why Altair always came back for Saleh, why he always wanted more.

There was hardly oil on Saleh’s cock when he entered him, rough and in one swift movement, piercing him from the inside and making him see stars from pain. If it weren’t for the gag, the whole fort would be up by Altair’s pitiful cry.

Altair struggled, and it was pitiful because he wasn’t even trying hard enough to make it look real – he wasn’t fighting back and Saleh fucking _knew_. There were fingers around his throat, closing in slowly but they weren’t tight enough to completely cut off his air – it was just enough to remind him of who was in control. “You want to cum boy?” Altair nodded, slowly and made a small sound around the gag and it was close to a dog’s whine. It was ridiculous how pleasure was able to force its way through the thick, thick fog of pain that was making his body sing, but it was there, unable for him to ignore. A small, tight knot growing at the bottom of his stomach, moving out through his whole being, traveling to his limbs, fingers and toes until there was nothing else. Saleh chuckled, and that was never a good sign. “Not tonight. I will bring you close, but I won’t let you have it. In fact, I will give you an order boy. Only if you fulfill your task, I will grant you your pleasure.” The fingers fell from his throat and instead cupped his jaw, almost gently. “Tomorrow, you’re going to find someone who’s going to fuck your tight ass and when he’s done, you will come back to me.” The fingers were moving still and Saleh leaned in closer, his breath crawling across his skin. “And you will show me his cum still dripping out of you”, Saleh whispered, close, too close, “and only then,” his lips moved lazily, gently against his ear, “only then I will give you an orgasm.”

 


End file.
